


Real Life Experience

by missionaconplished



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alive Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, First Kiss, Fluff, Insecure Evan Hansen, It's pretty mild tho, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, he's self deprecating, maybe mild trigger warning for, of course there is swearing this is DEH we're talking about, platonic kissing except it isn't, self hate?, they're both oblivious awkward boys in love with each other, this is Evan's POV so I mean, this is very self indulgent and mildly projecty, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missionaconplished/pseuds/missionaconplished
Summary: Evan shifts, heaving a deep, long suffering sigh, then picking at his cast as he speaks, “I can’t write because I don’t have any real experience with real people. How am I supposed to convincingly sell a story when I have nothing to go off of? When I’m pulling shit from thin air and just praying it makes sense? How am I supposed to write a romance scene when I’ve barely even had friendly conversation with another human? How am I supposed to know what a kiss feels like well enough to write it when the closest form of physical contact I’ve ever had was a hug from my mom? How am I–““I can help.” Connor cuts in, and Evan’s head snaps up.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 121





	Real Life Experience

**Author's Note:**

> I have a multichapter fic I Should be working on but instead my brain said "no, write 2k words for a completely unrelated one shot at 12am instead of sleeping."
> 
> And thus, I bring you this. It is Very self-indulgent and a lil project-y, but, isn't all fanfic just a little?

“I have to do this stupid assignment for English.” Evan says as he stands, walking over to his backpack dropped haphazardly by the floor and rummaging through it.

“What’s the assignment?” Connor asks from where he sits on the edge of Evan’s bed.

“It’s a short story writing exercise, only  _ she  _ got to pick the prompts.”

“Yikes. What’d she give you?”

Evan stops rummaging around in his bag to look at Connor over his shoulder, “Romance.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad.”

Evan grabs the things he needs out, including his laptop and setting them on his desk.

“Yeah, well,” Evan flops down on the bed beside Connor, “it wouldn’t be if I actually had anything to pull from. I don’t understand why she couldn’t have just given me, like,  _ fantasy, _ or something. At least then if it doesn’t make sense I can just, write it off as part of the story instead of poor writing.”

“What do you mean?” Connor shoots a curious brow in his direction.

Evan shifts, heaving a deep, long suffering sigh, then picking at his cast as he speaks, “I can’t write because I don’t have any  _ real _ experience with  _ real _ people. How am I supposed to convincingly sell a story when I have nothing to go off of? When I’m pulling shit from thin air and just  _ praying _ it makes sense? How am I supposed to write a romance scene when I’ve barely even had  _ friendly _ conversation with another human? How am I supposed to know what a kiss feels like well enough to write it when the closest form of physical contact I’ve ever had was a hug from my _mom?_ How am I–“

“I can help.” Connor cuts in, and Evan’s head snaps up.

“What?”

Connor shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant but the nerves are thinly veiled. “I could help, with...you know.”

Evan stares at him for a long second, wide eyes blinking as he tries to figure out what he could possibly mean. “I’m not following.”

Connor shifts in his seat, running his fingers through his hair and huffing slightly like this whole thing is an agitating inconvenience.

“I could help. With the, um– the... _ experience _ thing?” There’s a harshness to his words, but Evan sees through the stuttering and can see that the harshness isn’t directed at him, it’s at himself.

_ Experience? _ Honestly toward the end there he was just word vomiting, he’s not even entirely sure  _ what _ he said. He tries his hardest to replay it in his head, it gets a little fuzzier the further he gets but he remembers the words  _ 'what a kiss feels like' _ and has to stop his face from cringing at himself.  _ God why did he say that, that’s so fucking weird. Connor did  _ not _ need to know that you’re an inexperienced loser who’s almost 18 and hasn’t had his first kiss yet. God, Hansen can you ever just shut the fuck up for once, he asked about your English assignment not your lack of a social life– _

Wait.

He had said;  _ I could help. _

Not;  _ weird. _

Not;  _ inexperienced. _

Not;  _ loser. _

He said;

_ I could help. _

“Help? What– what’d you–“  _ Oh. _

Oh. Of course Connor Murphy has kissed people before. I mean– just  _ look at him. _ He’s gorgeous, probably has girls banging down his door. He’s just offering tips, writing advice,  _ experienced knowledge. _ Not…

“Oh, you don’t have to. I mean, like, I’ve  _ read _ stuff before. I don’t think you could tell me anything I haven’t already seen– but seeing is  _ different. _ Reading other people’s description of the experience isn’t your own.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Connor nods but it’s...distracted. He seems like he’s going to drop it, but after a long beat of him staring down at the comforter, his eyes flash back up briefly and then he’s shifting, turning his body to face Evan completely. He clears his throat in a way that’s supposed to make him seem confident but it crackles, and the way his eyes shift back down to where his palms are rubbing against his jeans shows the undercurrent of nerves.

“I actually didn’t mean, like,  _ talking _ about it. I meant I could...kiss you? If you wanted?” His voice gets quiet towards the end, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and then dropping his hand back in his lap in a twitchy motion, only to shake his hair back out again to curtain over his face.

He... _ what. _

“O-only if  _ you _ wanted, of course. You can just, forget, that I said that. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have–“

Evan’s brain is 20 paces behind, still processing the  _ first  _ part of that but when he hears the dejected, backtracking tone in Connor’s voice he feels a minor bit of whiplash at how fast his thoughts slam into him. “No!” He almost shouts, and Connor is looking up at him with his own wide eyes.

“No– I mean, I wasn’t–“ Evan tries to take a breath, “...you’d kiss me?”

Connor stares for a moment longer, all big eyes and hair in his face, twitching hands completely stilled, “Yeah,” his movements are jerky for a minute, like his brain is kicking back into gear and then, “Y-yeah. I mean– like I said, if  _ you want to.  _ It’s not a big deal if you don’t, I just, figured it could... _ help. _ With at least, one of the problems...anyway.” He loses momentum toward the end of his sentence, like he’s not even sure where he’s going with it.

“I– Um.”

“Like, it’s really fine if you don’t want to– serious. It was a dumb idea in the first place, I just, I don’t know–“

“Yeah, you can...you can kiss me.”

Evan  _ never _ thought he’d hear those words come out of his mouth. Thought about it? Yes. Hoped? Absolutely. But never  _ actually _ expected it to happen.

“...Really?”

“Yeah, I mean,” He pushes out a breath of air,  _ tries _ to sound casual, “Why not?”

“Right. Why not?” Connor repeats, trying to one-up Evan’s mockery of causality and failing just as hard.

“So, uh...how do we–“

“Oh! Um,  _ right." _ Connor scoots a little bit closer, their knees bumping as he lifts his hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, then slowly drops it to rest on Evan’s leg, looking up and making eye contact for a split second before clearing his throat again. “Are you sure? About–?”

“Yeah,” No, he isn’t. He isn’t sure about anything, that’s kind of Evan’s whole  _ deal. _ But he wants to be. He thinks he is. He wants _ this, _ at least. Whatever  _ this _ is. He knows that much. But– Connor doesn’t seem as sure. Which is,  _ weird. _ Because that’s kind of  _ Connor’s  _ whole thing, he seems to know what he wants and how to get it. Evan looks up and meets his eyes, doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this nervous. “Are  _ you? _ Sure?”

_ “Yes." _ The speed of his answer almost makes Evan think he’s lying, but then, “I mean, I think. Yeah. It’s just a kiss, right? No big deal.”

_ Maybe not to you. I’ve kinda been dreaming of this moment my entire life. _

“Exactly. Not at all.”

“Great, so, I’m just– gonna,” Connor places his hand on Evan’s cheek, the other one still softly resting on his thigh for support as he leans in. Evan  _ knows _ he’s supposed to close his eyes, has read it in every book and is reminded as he sees Connor’s flick closed as he gets closer, but he can’t, mesmerized as he watches his face inch closer, and closer and even closer yet, until…

Connor’s lips are on his, and he feels his eyes slip closed without permission as Connor’s hand presses into his cheek, grounding him, making sure he doesn’t float away because–

_ This isn’t “no big deal’. _

This is a  _ huge  _ deal, because Evan sighs into the kiss, and he’s unsure what he’s supposed to be doing with his lips but Connor’s are pressing softly so he just...follows. Copies.

And then  _ Connor  _ is sighing. A soft little puff of breath out of his nose as his arm slides from Evan’s thigh to wrap around his torso, his hand splaying across his back and pulling him a little closer.

And Evan’s hands are still just...laying by his sides lamely, which absolutely cannot be right because Connor’s are all over him and he  _ definitely _ doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea, so he brings his hand up to brush and then lay on the side of his neck, sandwiched between curly hair and hot skin.

Evan immediately regrets it when the sound of slightly slick lips disconnecting fills his ears, a shaky breath falling from Connor’s parted lips and into the limited air between them. Their top lips graze once more and Evan has to stop himself from chasing them as Connor pulls back, just enough distance between them for them to make eye contact, and the second they do Evan immediately feels the urge to apologize, sure he’s done something wrong.

“I-I’m sorry–“

“I’ve never done that before.”

“...What?” Evan can’t stop the flush from rising to his cheeks at how absolutely destroyed his voice sounds already.

“I’ve...I’d never kissed anyone, either.” There's a soft blush of color rushing to Connor’s cheeks, too.

“Oh.” But...what about the...girls? Knocking down his door?

“Yeah.” And all it takes is to hear the rasp in his voice, too, for Evan to know he’s telling the truth.

I mean, they barely did  _ anything _ by most kids their ages’ standards and their both already a flushed, breathy mess.

So...there are no girls knocking down his door? Or... _ boys?  _ He guesses?

  
  


And then immediately decides that that’s just,  _ wrong. _

He understands why he had never been kissed before. He knows what he looks like; all soft, rounded edges, hairy arms and boring grandpa clothes that don’t fit with his baby face. He knows how he talks; broken sentences and incoherent rambles, stutters and unpredictable volumes that never seem to fit the situation appropriately, always too loud or too quiet, never just right. And he’s  _ sure _ everyone can see what’s going on in his head, it’s not like it’s subtle. Manifesting itself in twitchy hands, shaking fingers, pinching of shirts and bouncing of legs, blinking eyes and sweaty palms.

He’s like the dictionary definition of undesirable, he gets it.

But  _ Connor? _ Connor is none of those things.

Connor is sharp lines and harsh edges, long legs and lanky stature. He’s beautiful ocean blue eyes with an island of sandy brown in the one, gorgeous teeth and an even prettier smile, angular jaw and contoured cheekbones– and that’s just the physical stuff. He speaks better too; authoritative yet kind, quiet and calculated but also loud and outspoken. He’s full of contradictions in the most mysterious way a person can be. Evan knows his head isn’t perfect either; it’s loud and screaming, scary and violent at its worst, bleak and hopeless during plateaus. But he also knows Connor, the  _ real _ Connor, and knows he’s nothing like what his brain makes him seem.

He feels and cares  _ so much _ that he doesn’t know how to handle it or what to do with it all, and that unfortunately manifests itself in uncontrollable outbursts of pent up emotions. But the real Connor is patient, sarcastic, witty and funny. Kind and thoughtful and careful. And it’s a shame that more people don’t get to see that side of him.  _ This _ side of him.

A surprised  _ hmpf _ gets pushed out of Connor as they connect again, and it’s Evan’s turn to take the lead this time as he slides his hand further behind Connor’s neck to rest at the base, their lips already moving in a much more coordinated pattern than the first time, and it isn’t long before Connor is tugging at Evan’s waist again, pulling him closer.

And on second thought, Evan thinks,  _ Screw them. _

Maybe if they would have taken the time to know him,  _ really  _ see him past all of the walls– the ones people built around him and the ones he built around himself– Maybe they’d be the one sitting in his lap, with his hands on their waist and their fingers in his hair as their lips slot together like puzzle pieces.

But, they aren’t.

_ Evan _ is.

Because  _ he _ took the time to find all of the pieces to the puzzle that is Connor Murphy, and his prize is getting to put them together with his own.

And maybe  _ that’s _ what romance is.


End file.
